Saturday, July 10, 2010

Evolution of a Biker Babe

When I was growing up, I was always taught the dangers of motorcycles. So naturally, when I got married, I was dead set against our family owning one. I remember very distinctly the day that my husband came home with one. I was probably more mad that day than I have ever been in our married life. I looked at that bike as a "death trap", and I was mad that he had gone out and bought it without talking to me about it first.

That motorcycle was a Yamaha Virago. He rode it to work sometimes and it filled that "bike void" that he felt. What most people don't know about my husband is that he had a motorcycle much of the time growing up. So he is experienced in riding. I guess once you get that taste for riding, it's hard to give it up.

The next bike he bought was a V-Star. This isn't the nicest term to use, but we always referred to it as the "Dike Bike" because two lesbian women had traded it in on a car. It was a good deal, with barely any miles on it. By the time he bought this bike, I was desensitized and didn't get upset at the thought of him riding it. Here is a picture of that bike when my husband rode it out to Utah.



I think he did enjoy the trip, but when he was about 20 miles away from our destination, he came around a sharp turn and slid out on the gravel and laid it down. The main damage to him was a huge bruise on his side, and the main damage to the bike was the headlight and the gas tank that got a dent in the side. He could still ride it, and did ride it home, but some of the value was lost in the accident. The main thing he learned from this trip is that the V-Star simply doesn't have enough power for those kinds of trips. The engine runs at full capacity in the highest gear just trying to do the speed limit. Add to that mountains or hills and it just wasn't the right kind of bike.




So imagine my husband sitting at his desk all year round in his sales/engineer job, day dreaming about summer vacation when he will ride his motorcycle out to Utah. Imagine him planning carefully about how he will get a new bike that will have the power he needs. Remember that he has been thinking about this for an entire year. Now let me describe the scene I saw this morning. There was my husband, face down on the bed groaning in frustration. I said, "What's wrong?" He said, "I'm frustrated because I still haven't found the right bike, and this is my last day to look for one." I said, "That isn't frustration, that's desperation!" I told him that he needed to be sure not to buy a bike out of desperation, but to get the right one for him. He had been looking on Craig's list but hadn't found anything. He did find one bike, but the owner never did contact him about it, so he assumed it was already sold. Suddenly my husband said, "I have an idea. I'm going to look online at the dealer near my work." He pulled up their website and there was the very bike that he knew would be right for him! He called the owner and asked about it. He said he had just posted it online two days earlier, and about 15 minutes earlier had lowered the price! My husband told him we would be there within the hour!

I have to say that this just felt like it was meant to be. This bike was a STEAL! It only had 3,000 miles on it, so is like new! He got it for quite a bit below blue book value, and less than half of the original purchase price. It's in perfect condition! If I can get blogger to work, I'll post a picture of it.

So now I'm actually happy for him that he found such a good bike, as opposed to my anger at his first bike purchase. Not only that, but I've been thinking I should take the motorcycle class to get my own license. The V-Star is sitting in the garage just waiting for me to ride it....


10 comments:

Lindsay Logic said...

That looks fun! Do you go with him? I wish my husband would buy a bike, I think it would be fun to go on short weekend getaways!

Looney said...

Sounds like you two need to get some black leather outfits with some Prussian army helmets. Maybe some stick-on tatoos, and then go cruising.

Delirious said...

Lindsay, I occasionally take a ride with him, but I'll have to admit that it's a little scary being on the back, especially when he turns corners and leans in to them. That's why I need to ride my own bike! :)

Looney, lol okay, but I'm not getting any piercings

Mr. Giggles said...

Two words: Sa - weeet!

Christina said...

How exciting! Jake's mom rides a Harley, so does his uncle and aunt. Haven't ridden on the back, except his uncle took me around the house, but I imagine it would have to not being in control of the bike. Enjoy!

Anonymous said...

Had a Harley springer front ender, a 1948 model, and put 75,000 miles on it, no accidents, and loved every minut of riding, but Dot wont ride with me at all....I have had several bikes since we were maried, but she WONT RIDE WITH ME...She will ride her own ATV, and wont ride with me, but she is a good rider by herself...When you ride with your hub, dont lean the oposite direction when he makes those turns...hahahaha/

Nene said...

I spent 3 summers riding motorcycles and loved every minute of it! I still think about it and how much I enjoyed it, but my old age has set in and it scares me to think of riding one now. :0+

Amber said...

That is a SWEET bike! It's so shiny and chrome-y! I'm glad he found one and is able to ride it out to Utah. I have to say that I've never been on a motorcycle, I'm kind of afraid because my sisters and mother all burned their legs riding one, so that kind of put me off LOL

Ramana Rajgopaul said...

That looks like a mean machine. My son is a biker and uses a 350cc Enfield Bullet. It is a powerful bike and for his size, he is bigger than I am, that about suits him.

Mrs. Rogers said...

haha it's nice to finally hear the real story about that. I was there when he walked in and told he laid his bike down, but the rest I had to hear through the grapevine, and somehow, the story turned into he was 5 miles from the house and that he totalled the bike.

I wish I could be there this year! Maybe next year.